He was still in the barn.

Gussie flopped onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. She would have bet good money that Lonestar would take up where’d he’d left off the night of the fire by now. After they’d returned home from Erik and Susan’s place, they went about their evening chores. Finishing up securing the hen coop, she’d crossed the yard slowly as she’d eyed the barn where Lonestar was moving about feeding the livestock. He’d be in soon, she’d figured, so she’d stripped off her dress and washed quickly. Then she’d brushed her hair and pinched her cheeks to get some color into them. Finally, she’d turned down the bed linens and slipped under them to await him, her insides quivering with anticipation.

And she’d waited. And she’d waited.

With a huff of breath, she flung aside the cover and went into the parlor. Peering through the window, she noted the dim light of the lantern. Dang him! He was bedding down out there again! Whirling away from the window, she paced the length of the room, her irritation growing with each step. He was surely testing her. Did he want her to beg? Well, he could stay out there with the other stubborn mules for all she cared!

She found herself staring at the bed again and imagining him in it with her. He’d made her want what he was offering. So, why was he out there in the doggone barn now instead of in here with her? He was being obstinate. Dang him!

Vexed, she stomped into the bedroom and flung her shawl over her nightdress. She stuffed her feet into her house slippers and marched out to the barn, now lit only by moonlight. Pausing for a few moments to let her eyes adjust to the milky light, she stared at the missing wall and scenes of the fire whirled like smoke through her mind. She forced her thoughts away from that trauma and stepped further inside, her footfalls muffled by the hay strewn across the ground.

Lonestar lay sprawled in a bed of hay and horse blankets in one of the stalls. His eyes were closed, but she sincerely doubted that he slept. She propped her hands on her hips and glared at him. Her ire subsided a bit as she took in the expanse of his chest and the blue shadows falling across his face. Stubble darkened his cheeks and chin. She recalled the rasp of it against her skin, more pleasurable than she would ever have imagined . . . Shoving aside those amorous musings, she made herself remember her mission.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” she asked, none too kindly.

He opened one eye, pale light glinting in it. “Trying to sleep. What are you doing?”

“I’ve been waiting for you to come inside.”

He opened the other eye. “Is that what you want?”

She blew out a breath that lifted wisps of hair off her forehead. “I thought this was settled.”

“You thought what was settled?”

She motioned between them. “This. Us.”

He frowned. “It’s not. I’ve been ruminating about what you said the other night. I don’t want to force anything on you. I sure don’t want to be a pest.”

She rolled her eyes, thinking he was a huge pest. A big, lean, muscle rippling pest. A flame licked under her skin as she watched him stretch lazily. He was shirtless. Yearning curled in her belly.

“Lonestar,” she said, his name emerging as part warning and part pleading.

He arched a black brow. “Augusta,” he said, her name forming a question that hung in the air between them.

She crossed her arms, her mule-headedness blocking her good sense, urging her to tell him to go straight to hell. Sleep out here and see if she cared! But the keen longing inside of her dulled her sharp tongue. She imagined his strong arms enclosing her and the sheer pleasure of his kisses. Her heart boomed and pulses quickened all over her body. “For heaven’s sake, come to bed. Inside the house.” But she couldn’t leave it at that. Her foolish pride won out and she added, “But if you want to stay out here with the horses and mules, that’s fine and dandy, too.”

Propping himself up on his elbows, his gaze drifted down her body, making her tingle in private places. Slowly, his appreciative gaze traveled back up to her face, which she knew was pink, if not red. It was downright embarrassing to have to ask him to bed her like this!

“Do you want me, Augusta? Do you want me in the way a woman wants a man?”

Her mouth dried up even as words crowded into her mind. Words like “need,” “desire,” “passion,” and “pleasuring.” For some reason, she loathed to voice any of them or to confess her womanly urges out in the open. Was she ashamed to want him? That was plumb silly. He was her husband. Having these feelings was normal, so why did she feel like she needed to fight them off? Especially when he was laid out before her like a banquet of manliness. The way he looked at her with hooded eyes made her feel weak-kneed. She liked the way his chest hair narrowed to a line down to his navel and then again took up its trail to disappear below his waistband. She knew that his skin felt warm and smooth, but that his hands were callused and scarred from hard work. She loved his hands – the look of them, the feel of them, how they could be gentle one moment and forceful the next.

He sat all the way up and draped one arm over his bent knee. “We work well together, wouldn’t you say?” He glanced toward the missing barn wall where moonlight spilled in. “Like when we fought the fire. We were a team and we whupped that fire – just the two of us.”

She had to smile at the truth of that. “We did.”

“We should be a team in bad times, in happy times, when we’re doing chores, and when we’re making each other feel good.” He slowly rose to his feet and brushed straw off his pants, arms, and back. “That’s what I want for us. Like I said, I’m not going to lie beside you any more, aching so bad I think I’m going to howl from the wanting of you. I’m not going to wake up early and hightail it out here so that I can take care of myself because I’m still needing you so bad that I’m hard as a railroad spike.” He stepped closer to her, settled his hands at his waist, and shook his head slowly. “I’m done with all that.” When he brought his gaze up to bear on her, his eyes were all heat and desire that seared her skin.

She tried to swallow, but had no moisture in her mouth. His frank confession shocked her, but also fanned the flame within her, making it dance crazily and fire her blood. “Touch me.” It was all she could say, all she could think.

He inhaled quickly as if her simple command surprised him, but then a groan slipped past his lips and he snaked an arm around her waist and hauled her against him. His mouth covered hers, demanding and hot as sin. The onslaught of feelings his kiss released made her dizzy and she whimpered even as her fingers dove through his silky hair and clasped his neck. His tongue bumped against her lips and he growled his frustration. She moaned, surrendering to him. His arms tightened around her and his tongue slid sensuously along hers. Everything inside of her tightened and then unfurled, sending shivers along her skin.

For a startling instant, she thought she might faint from the overwhelming pleasure of it all. The slide of his tongue on hers, the feel of his arms like bands of desire around her body, the hardness of him pressing against her, and the delicious taste and smell of him coating her senses. It was all there. All hers to experience.

He tore his mouth away, bent a little, and hoisted her up into his arms. “Not here,” he murmured against the curve of her neck. “In bed.”

Gussie clutched his shoulders and nestled the side of her warm face against him as his long strides took them from the barn to the bedroom. He lowered her to the bed, pressing a knee into the mattress and looming over her. He brushed her hair back from her cheeks and forehead with a hand that trembled slightly.

“You are so beautiful,” he whispered, catching the edge of her shawl and pulling it off her shoulders and body to fling it aside. “Those blue eyes of yours are pools that I love to swim in. And your skin . . . so soft and creamy. You’re small and delicate outside, but inside you’re a tower of fire and steel.” He ran his fingers down her arms and then linked them with hers. “I know you want me, almost as much as I want you. I can see it in the way you look at me. Sometimes when you’re sleeping, you snuggle close against me and embrace me, and you’ll give a little moan. It’s all I can do not to climb on top of you and claim you when you do that, Augusta. That’s why I couldn’t stay in here with you anymore.” His lips plucked at hers.

Her body was hot and achy. She slipped her hands on either side of his strong neck and tugged, needing him closer. “Kiss me again.”

“I want to do more than kiss you, Augusta.”

She nodded, her shyness burned away by the desire smoldering in his eyes. “Claim me, then. I want to be yours. Make me yours, Lonestar.”

“With pleasure.” His hands went to his trouser fastening and he flicked open the buttons – one, two, three.

Gussie trembled and her gaze bounced from his trousers to his face again. From his slight frown, she knew that her expression telegraphed her sudden bout of nerves.

He eased himself alongside her on the bed and captured a honey-gold lock of her hair. “Steady there, sweet one. Nothing to fear from me.” His lips touched her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose, which made her smile. He eased the neckline of her nightgown off her shoulder and placed a kiss there. “You smell like rose water.”

“I washed myself earlier.”

“For me?” He lifted his head so that she could see his grin.

“Maybe.” She wrinkled her nose, realizing how silly it was to deny the naked truth. “Yes.”

“I bet I smell like horses and mules.”

“No. You smell like the outdoors. Like wind and sun and earth.”

He peppered her shoulder and the curve of her neck with tiny kisses, preoccupying her so much that his palm warmed her knee before she’d realized that he’d slipped his hand underneath her nightgown. She hissed in a breath and stiffened. His fingers caressed her knee and his mouth continued its gentle assault on her cheek, chin, and then her parted lips. He groaned as his lips moved against hers and his tongue caressed hers in a way that made her buck up into him. Urgency blasted through her and she gripped his hair and kissed him with abandon. When he moaned into her mouth again, she thought she might go up in flames. His hand moved to her thigh and her back arched, instinctively. She wasn’t sure if she should allow him full access to her private places, but her body seemed to have decided for her.

Lonestar’s mouth lifted off hers and she gathered in a big breath, releasing it in a whoosh when his lips circled her straining nipple and his tongue wet the fabric covering it. She clutched at his head as a piercing burn zipped from her throbbing nipple straight through her body to where his hand was moving ever upward. He flicked at the tight, pink peak with the tip of his tongue and pleasure as sharp as a knife blade sliced through her. His questing fingers caressed between her thighs and she gasped, writhed, and felt her eyes roll back into her head in a near swoon.

“I . . . oh, my . . . we . . . please, yes . . .” She pressed her lips together, hearing her babbling and knowing that talking was of no use now. There were only feelings. A cascade of searing feelings.

He switched to her other nipple as he grabbed the hem of her nightgown and inched it up her trembling body.

“Lift up, Augusta. Your arms, too. I want to see you. All of you.”

The steely authority in his tone had her raising her arms and hips. He divested her of her clothing with a sweep and a toss. Pushing himself up off her, he looked boldly at her lying beside him in all her nakedness and his eyes darkened as his lips curved into an arc of pleasure.

“You take my breath away,” he whispered, then nuzzled her breasts again, his tongue lapping at the straining centers and his warm hand cupping her, his fingertips teasing, flicking, rubbing.

Gussie shivered with pleasure. The velvety wetness of his tongue on her exposed skin was like nothing she’d ever experienced. She would have never thought to enjoy a man’s mouth on her private places, but Lonestar was right. He knew what to do, how to make her body quake and tremble as desire built and built within her.

He kissed her, deeply and ardently, as he palmed her breasts, lifting them, letting them rest in his big hands, and then taking each into his warm mouth and sucking, at first gently, and then insistently until she writhed and moaned in sweet agony. The vestiges of her shyness melted under the gentle rain of his kisses and the tenderness of his caresses. She closed her eyes as the storm of feelings overcame her and she felt the need to drown herself in them. He shifted his body to cover hers, but he balanced his upper weight on his forearms as he tunneled his fingers in her hair and made love to her mouth.

Gently, he ran a hand down her side, gripped her knee, and moved her leg, parting her thighs. Her eyes flew open when she felt hard heat nudge her and her nerves rattled a warning.

He shushed her, smiling, kissing the corners of her eyes and mouth. “We’re taking this slow, darlin’. Give me your hand.” He guided her hand down between their bodies until her fingers brushed against satiny, hot skin. “Go ahead. Touch me. Every bit of me belongs to you now, Augusta. Especially that bit of me.”

That notion sent a thrill through her. This man. This beautiful, kind-hearted man of sinew and tawny skin belonged to her. In her wildest dreams, she could not have imagined it. But here she was, and this was not a dream. Her fingers explored the silkiness of his skin stretched over iron muscles and veins. She widened her eyes even more as she gauged the thickness and length of him. Her skittishness got the best of her and she snatched her hand away.

“I . . . don’t think—.”

“That’s right, honey, don’t think.” He ran his nose and the tip of his tongue down the side of her neck, making her shiver. “Open for me.”

She knew what he wanted, but it took her a few seconds to gather up the nerve to inch her legs farther apart. He settled his lower body between them, and his thumb rubbed around a spot – a tiny knot of flesh that unleashed a firestorm in her. Her blood ran hot, roaring in her ears, and she arched her backside off the bed. She tried to close her legs, but his body was there, preventing it.

“What are you—!” She shook her head as his thumb continued, around and around, releasing shooting stars of pleasure through her. And then, it was as if something shattered inside of her, flooding her mind and body with ecstasy. She flung back her head into the down-filled pillow and a moan burst from her. He didn’t stop, but kept up the motion of his thumb as two of his fingers slipped inside her. She felt the slickness of her body, which had prepared itself for him. His fingers moved in and out as he kissed her parted lips and rosy, stiff nipples. Pleasure continued to burst through her like Chinese fireworks, lighting her up, making her glow and her body glisten. She ran her hands over Lonestar’s shoulders and felt the bunching of muscles in his upper arms as he stroked her.

Her body coiled, tensing up as his fingers kept plunging in and out, and then she shattered again. Crying out, she let herself go, let her body take command of her. She bent her knees, hugging his hips with them, and gripped Lonestar’s upper arms as he removed his hand from her and then, quite suddenly and forcefully, breached her.

She cried out and her eyes flew open to stare into his. He moved in slowly, allowing her body to adjust for him. Then he stopped. The burning that had erupted deep inside her abated. Gussie blinked aside the tears that had sprung to her eyes. Her body tightened around him, almost denying him any further intrusion. She shook her head, unsure of what was next and if she wanted to experience it.

His features were also tense, but in a different way. His brown eyes glinted darkly and his mouth had thinned into a straight line. She sensed he was drawn as tight as a bowstring. He kissed her softly on the lips, her nose, her lips again, and then trailed kisses along her jawline and into the dip between her collar bones.

“Slowly,” he murmured. “Move with me, Augusta.”

She pushed at his shoulders, not liking the tightness, the pinching, the pulling, the abrasive prickles of pain. “It hurts.”

He stilled and cupped her chin in one hand. The tender look he gave her softened her, relaxed her a little. He smoothed his hand over her hair.

“Does it really hurt?” he asked, his brows drawing together. “Or does it just sting a mite and feel peculiar?” He shifted his hips, moving out of her a bit more.

“It stings,” she said. “You’re too big.”

He grinned and rubbed his nose against hers. “I am big, but not too big. You are woman enough to handle me.”

She had to smile at that, but her smile faltered when he drove into her again. “Owww!”

He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and closed his eyes. Then he withdrew only to push right back in, deeper this time. Her insides gripped him, held fast to him. He shuddered against her. She stared at him in wonder. She was pleasuring him! She could tell by the tremors in his muscles under her hands and the way his breath sawed in and out. He opened his eyes and let her see the desire swirling in their golden depths and her hips lifted to meet his.

“Ahhhh,” he groaned, his head dipping so that he could press his face against the side of her neck. “That’s the way, my darlin’.”

He said no more, but allowed his body to speak for him. She let him guide her, arching into him as her muscles quivered, but no longer in discomfort. With each thrust and parry, her body melted, smoothing the rough edges, leaving only pulsating feelings and tingling pleasure points.

In the next handful of minutes, she was sighing his name and rubbing the back of her heels up and down his hair-dusted legs. He gripped her hips firmly as he continued his sweet onslaught and flung back his head as he thrust deeply.

He stilled, cursed softly, and then lifted himself on stiff arms and pulled out of her. She squinted at him as he released a choppy moan. Warm ropes of liquid splashed on her belly and breasts.

“Wh-what have you done?” She ran a hand over the sticky substance. “Did you – what is this?”

He chuckled, sounding lazy and tired. “It’s what makes babies, Augusta. Better there than inside you. I don’t think we want you to be with child. Not yet, anyway.”

She felt her face flame with embarrassment. “Good heavens! It . . . it’s all over me!”

He laughed at her repugnance. “Wait. Don’t move.” He scrambled out of bed and went to the wash stand to wet a rag. He ran it over himself first, rinsed it out, wet it again, and came back to her. “Let me.” He wiped up the milky, translucent splatters. He went to the wash stand again to rinse and wring out the cloth. This time, he parted her thighs and ran the cloth over her mound, chuckling under his breath at her gasp of indignation.

“There. All better?” He tossed the rag toward the wash stand and slid in beside her, lying on his side, and draping an arm across her stomach. “How do you feel?”

She mentally examined her feelings. “Fine.” She rose up a little and looked down her body. “Am I bleeding anywhere?”

He chuckled, following her gaze. “Not yet. I think what few drops of blood there were ended up on me.”

She winced and decided to change the subject. “How do you feel?”

His grin told her all she needed to know, but he answered anyway. “Relaxed, happy, and ever so grateful.” He kissed her shoulder. “Thank you, Augusta.”

“You’re welcome, Lonestar.”

His eyes locked on hers. “Say my name.”

“Lonestar.”

He shook his head, his eyes dancing. “No. My Christian name. Say it.”

She sighed. “Max.” She made a face at him.

“You don’t like my name?”

“It’s a fine, masculine name. But I like Lonestar much better.”

“Oh? Is it more masculine than Max?” He wound a lock of her blond hair around his forefinger.

“When I say it, I think of Indian braves with feathers stuck in their black hair, riding hellbent along the great plains on spirited, painted ponies.” She felt herself blush. “It’s a romantic name.”

His brows rose. “Then you must consider me romantic.” He chuckled when she averted her gaze in sudden shyness. “All that is in my name? Do you know that you’re the only woman I’ve known, other than my mother and sister, who isn’t repulsed by a half-breed like me?”

“I don’t believe that. A man as handsome as you turns female heads and wins hearts. They might have been told not to get involved with you, but that wouldn’t have kept them from admiring you and . . . seeking your attentions.”

His brown eyes softened, reminding her of velvety chamois. “Augusta Adele,” he whispered, lowering his lips to her cheek. “Do you know what you are?”

She gave him an expectant look, making him smile again.

“You are a rare gem of a woman,” he told her. “A precious gem.” He ran his hand between her breasts to her stomach. “And you’re mine.” His voice held a possessive note and his expression was all seriousness. “Say it, Augusta. Say that you’re mine.”

She swallowed the lump of emotion that knotted in her throat, realizing that he would take nothing less from her than those words. “I’m yours, Max Lonestar,” she said, barely getting the words past her lips before his mouth swooped to cover them. His kiss branded her. His arms came around her, and he pulled her close to him, belly to belly, limb to limb, heart to heart.

“Damn right, you are,” he whispered into her hair. He kissed behind her ear and she went to sleep to the steady beat of his heart.